


Canary's Song

by jentaro



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: M/M, but it's not bad, i swear!!!!!, i'm shocked at myself i kno, light descriptions of viscera, no actual smut but it is mentioned hence the M rating, the smut happens off screen for this one, these boys are just dumb and cute and i love them
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-04
Updated: 2020-11-04
Packaged: 2021-03-08 17:48:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27380692
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jentaro/pseuds/jentaro
Summary: His answer is automatic, “Because I like you?”“...Why?”“Do I really need a reason to write epics about my friends?"/otherwise known as jaskier almost fucking dies because he can't follow directions :/
Relationships: Eskel/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 10
Kudos: 108





	Canary's Song

**Author's Note:**

> once again this is bulletincookie's fault for giving me a killer prompt of eskel singing to himself on his way to a contract, Also i was half trashed writing the first part and i liked how it turned out!!!! i wasn't gonna post this yet but i have to force jaskel down everyone's fucking throats at all times if it's the last goddamn thing i do on this hell earth. so enjoy that 🤡💖
> 
> and of course it's Barely edited since i'm posting it at 1am so if i missed anything *shrugs so hard my shoulders fall off*

The _details_ , his new friend Eskel is not silent on the details of his contracts. A witcher with a bit of a braggart’s mouth with enough ale in him, and Jaskier has been charming a Countess for months now, lining his pockets with coin plenty enough to fund the purchase of make a witcher talk juice. And sure, Jaskier may embellish heroics, but having a thorough account of action makes him please the bloodthirsty crowd as well. Eskel gives him far more details than he's ever been able to drag out of Geralt in five years, all in the span of what, five days? 

They had met up in Carreras by chance, and Jaskier had introduced himself to the wolf. One look at the medallion, and he had bought him an ale and dinner. Jaskier bought a double room for the night and insisted Eskel stay with him; it wasn't too hard of a sell after they'd shared a meal together, talking a little about Geralt before they talked about other things. Nothing too personal or anything, but Jaskier talks about his bardic talents and some wildly bawdy stories from courtly parties—including the general of a Queen’s army pulling him aside at the end of the night to fuck him while Jaskier also blew the Queen’s nephew’s accountant. In exchange, Eskel told him about a Succubus hunt he'd done which did _not_ end how he expected. 

And since they were headed in the same vague northern direction, Eskel asked him if he would prefer company. A delightful surprise considering Jaskier would have followed at a distance before the man had no choice but to take pity on him and travel slower. Besides, his presence _does_ bring somewhat decent fortune for them both; something about a bard singing about a witcher and the positive word of mouth about the heroic witcher filling their pockets. Or perhaps the distant non-human blood within is selectively siren to Jaskier’s immense benefit, who's to say? 

He had also proven himself a competent travel companion by helping set up camp in the wilderness for the past three nights, the routine ingrained in him from traveling with Geralt. Now, though, they have found a village with an inn and a notice board, and Jaskier has done his duty of renting the room and promising a performance in the evening. Which! Jaskier will give! He _will_ , but the priority right now is maybe following Eskel into the woods visible from the village. Jaskier sneaks as silently as he can through tall grass while the wind rustles the sun bleached meadow. 

Obviously, against the plant life, he sticks out like a sore thumb, all bright and loud colors. So, he waits until Eskel clears the trees before actually following. Once he makes it, he's careful, too, about watching where he's waking, not stepping on downed limbs or anything else that might crackle under his clumsy footing.

The good news is that Eskel had slowed down to start his tracking of the beast. And _yeah_ , Jaskier won't get _close_ to him, not enough to put himself in real danger, but he wants the purest form of details. Meaning, his own eyewitness account would be ideal if he doesn't get caught. Jaskier is probably gonna get caught, but that's a problem to deal with if it happens. 

That silent self-declaration is cut off when he hears quiet whistling. Thankfully, it stays in line with the downwind position Jaskier had taken to follow Eskel, but he finds himself leaning against a tree to listen. It’s not aimless, it follows a rhythm that Jaskier wants to tap out. He’s not much of a drummer, but it feels like tapping it out would be best—Jaskier’s fingers scrape against the tree he’s leaning against some distance from where he last saw Eskel (by recognizing the colors of his armor and shirt amongst dirt and trees).

It's a beautiful little melody, and it sounds somewhat familiar, but nothing that Jaskier can put a finger on with confidence. He won't forget this though, not when Eskel’s whistle carries so nicely on the breeze that rustles the trees. When it stops, Jaskier can hear the low, “Aha, got ya, little bastard…” He switches to humming, and Jaskier creeps a little closer to see that Eskel found the tracks, not yet the beastie. 

The good mood is infectious, Eskel switching from his humming to actually saying the words of his song that are a little faint for his ears when the wind picks up again. The rich baritone though is what Jaskier really focuses on, that quiet, wonderful voice threatening to buckle his knees. How unfair, kind, gorgeous, attractive Eskel, with his nice voice and his even better singing voice.

The witcher very suddenly segues into something a little sillier:

“ _De old hen she cackled,  
She cackled on de fence…  
De old hen she cackled,  
And she ain't cackled since._”

Jaskier snorts, and then stops dead against the new tree he's hiding behind. _Shit_.

“You can come out, nosy bard. I know you're there.” 

“Aw, come _on_ , dear witcher. I’m here for moral support?” Jaskier walks away from his hiding spot and heads closer to Eskel, at least trying to look sheepish about his very deliberate defiance.

“I will give you _plenty_ of material to work with later,” Eskel says, and Jaskier just _barely_ stops himself from making a crude joke about wanting to work with his material _now_. “But I don't want you getting hurt now in case I mess up.” That is when he sees the completely eviscerated corpse on the ground near Eskel’s feet. Their limbs have been snapped open and the bones have been splintered. It’s horrifying, sure, but Jaskier won't be swayed.

“You won't, though,” Jaskier says with a confidence that he can tell confuses Eskel. Especially as he takes another look at the viscera scattered on the ground.

“You’re so sure, but I still would rather you wait back in town. I don't want to need to worry about you if the beast runs off and finds you instead.” The same protocol that he's followed with Geralt, but Eskel’s concern is more touching. At least, it makes a warmth bloom in his chest that feels suspiciously like grand affection. Oh, Jaskier _is_ doomed. “Case in point,” he says, pointing at their unfortunate dead third wheel.

“I can take care of myself, thank you,” Jaskier huffily says, turning his nose up. “I just want to see the _action_ , and I have like half of a ballad written about your heroics anyway, so if I'm going to embellish events I’d rather have seen what I’m embellishing.”

Eskel pauses, and some part of Jaskier knows he's surprised him and made him a touch bashful, maybe even caused the slightest flush of his face. “Why would you bother writing anything about _me_?”

His answer is automatic, “Because I like you?” 

“...Why?” 

“Do I really need a reason to write epics about my friends? You might be only the second witcher I’ve traveled with or met, but I want the continent to know about the mountain of a man that is kind and fearless.”

Eskel guffaws at him in disbelief, and then he walks up to Jaskier and puts his hands on his face, cupping his cheeks with creaky leather gloves. “And you can only write your ridiculous fantasies about me if you are alive, little canary. Any hunt has hundreds of ways it could go wrong, and I don't want you putting yourself in danger just so you can write words about me.” 

Jaskier’s heart threatens to beat completely out of his chest from the gentle touch, but he can make his case _and_ be helplessly attracted to Eskel at the same time. “I can help—”

Something just beyond them rustles the trees, and the loud snapping of branches accompanies it. “ _Go_ ,” is all Eskel says before Jaskier hears a hellish screeching, and Eskel is reaching for his silver sword. The sound of dangerous metal being unsheathed is what kickstarts Jaskier into getting back and away, but he doesn't leave entirely. 

“Eyes on me ya big ugly bastard,” Eskel shouts at the beast. When Jaskier looks back, it's an especially ugly looking graveir; which is odd, since Jaskier can't remember there being any battlefields close enough by this village to snack on rotting bodies. Unless it wandered from a battlefield toward the south... 

The thing gives another shriek and charges at Eskel, who dodges out of the way with a roll before casting quen _just_ in time for the shield to come up, the graveir swiping its grubby little claws at him. The shield holds, but breaks on the second swipe—the distraction gives Eskel enough time to stand back up from his crouch, taking a chunk out of the beast’s side with his sword. It screeches again, an ear splitting, warbling sound that disorients Jaskier as he’s backing up as silently as he can; what a shame that he loses his footing and falls on his ass after tripping over a rock.

Unfortunately, that draws the ire of the graveir, who turns to yell at him even as Jaskier starts scrambling on the slippery carpet of fallen leaves of the forest floor. It only takes a couple of steps toward him, looking like it's about to leap atop him and rip him to shreds when a current of fire engulfs the creature while Eskel yells, “ _GO_.”

Jaskier doesn't need to be told twice this time, scurrying away after getting his feet back beneath him. But he still stays within sight of them, just, _much_ further back once he stops and turns to look back at the fight. He is far enough away that it seems the beast has forgotten about him completely, but he can't help being engrossed by watching Eskel move. His sign work is absolutely breathtaking, much stronger than what he's seen Geralt use. His second igni blast is large enough that Jaskier can hear the whooshing of flames and he could swear he feels the heat from it. 

The graveir gets in one lucky swat to Eskel’s thigh, and another to his forearm, but the steel wins in the end. It's gutted onto the forest floor with one more deafening scream, and then Eskel decapitates it. Even from a distance, the crunch of bone is sickening, but Jaskier is built of much tougher stuff than that and refuses to gag. Some more time is spent by the witcher completely burning the corpses to a crisp to get rid of the leftover entrails and innards in a bid to most likely keep away similar predators, but once that's done, Eskel starts heading back in his direction.

Giving him a sour look before walking right past him.

“I—”

“Almost got _killed_. This is why I wanted you to stay at the inn, Jaskier. _Anything_ can go wrong at any time.”

“And I’m not a completely helpless invalid either.” Jaskier trails after Eskel feeling thoroughly chastised. 

“No,” Eskel says, trudging along with the singed graveir head gripped by its spines. “I didn't say that, you can do and _actually_ do plenty. But when I ask you to run away, it’s because of stupid fucking lone beasts like this—they will kill you in seconds. Then they'll drag your corpse off and leave it to rot for weeks before sucking the marrow out of your bones when it's all nice and mephitic. That's why these fuckers feast on festering battlefields.” 

“I’m sorry, really, I am. Didn't mean to distract you like that, you're right that I should have stayed behind,” Jaskier says with a pout that he knows Eskel won't see. “But you did look _really_ cool. I have _never_ seen casts of igni like that.”

“Because Geralt’s signs are weak,” he says with a laugh. Mmmmmaybe he's not completely mad? Really, the exasperated sigh he makes says it all. “Apology accepted since you called me cool. But _don’t_ do it again.”

“As long as you tell me about the songs you were singing.”

Eskel stops after a moment and hums in thought, adding his extra condition, “And a bath.”

“And a bath! I’ll even patch up your totally my fault wounds.”

“Deal.”

**Author's Note:**

> you can find me on tumblr @ [jennyloggins](https://jennyloggins.tumblr.com/) and on twitter at [slimejen](https://twitter.com/slimejen). feel free to come talk or say hi or yell at me or whatever!!!!!!!!!!!!!


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